For the Sake of a Friend
by The Grand Inquisitor
Summary: War has come to Middle-Earth once again and it cannot be ignored or avoided. Sauron marshles his forces in Dol Guldur, threatening the kingdom of Mirkwood. Imladris and Lórien offer their support to King Thranduil, sending forward and emissary named Gwedhiel. Once old friends in wars long past, the two meet again in a time of conflict. Will this time be different? Thranduil/OC
1. Ch 1 Tidings of War

**Chapter 1 Tidings of War**

Second Age 3441

_Dawn seeped through the trees bathing them in harsh red light as the rising sun inched achingly into the sky. It moved slowly, painfully slowly, a great eye casting its sight over the red soaked land below it. It seemed to take in the carnage below with great care, its sanguine light stretching to graze the blood stained ground below as if grazing the cheek of an old friend._

_Many days had it ascended the sky, finding itself met by the same sight, a battlefield cloaked in the red life of the slain. Yet this day was different, this day the sun rose with a finality to it. The burnt fields would no longer be drenched in the blood of friend or foe for the war was over._

_It had been far too long since it had begun._

_Two figures stood upon a small slope in the field watching light reach down to the ground surveying the tragedy below with grim eyes._

"_It is over, my lord," came the voice of one. It was soft and laced with a weariness pounded in by years spent in war._

_The reply was slow in coming and the second voice seemed wearier still, weighed down by a heavy burden. "Indeed."_

_Two sets of eyes gazed out upon the destruction for a moment longer and then in tandem they turned to walk down the small slope. Silence stretched between the two full of unspoken words lanced through with equally unspoken pain. Finally, one elegant figure broke the silence, grey eyes darting off to glance at his companion._

"_Gwedhiel," he paused trying to disguise the small break in his voice, "we will be parting ways now I suppose?"_

_The curl-crowned head dipped in reply, "indeed we will my friend, and for that I am sorry, yet I cannot leave my kin. Not now."_

"_I understand."_

_Grey eyes met blue and with sad smiles the two figures parted ways._

* * *

><p>Third Age, 18th of Feburary, 3019<p>

"Gwedhiel, the Lady asks for you." A familiar voice stirred the quiet elleth into movement. She shifted upon her wooden bench, looking up with a pleasant smile into the face of her friend.

"Good morning Haldir."

The tall elf stared down at Gwedhiel, the edge of a glare lurking about his face as he waited for an answer. A mischievous look glinted in the blue eyes of the elf as she met his gaze with an affable smile. The waiting continued and the two stared, neither blinking nor willing to look away. It had long been a contest between the two to see who could hold eye contact the longest. Haldir rarely won.

Finally, Haldir let out his breath in a whooshing sigh and shook his pale head. "Come along Gwedhiel before you give me a headache."

Laughing spritely, the blue eyed elleth rose, her mass of dark curls bobbing about her face. "Very well my friend, lead on and I will see Lady Galadriel."

It had been many years since the war of the Last Alliance of Men and Elves, over a thousand in fact and long had it past from the mind of Gwedhiel. Somehow she found it had reached the forefront of her thoughts again. Perhaps it was because of the strange visitors in their land. Caras Galadhon had played host to the fellowship that had passed from Imladris bearing the one ring. It had been perhaps a fortnight since the company had passed the lands of Lorien, yet their coming had awoken in Gwedhiel many memories she wished not to recall.

"For what does the Lady require my presence?" she asked curiously, casting a glance on the silent Haldir. He walked with a warrior's grace, hands clasped gravely behind his back as they strode forward side by side. Blond hair fell in rivers across his shoulders and back framing a pale, aquiline face. Though perhaps not the handsomest of ellon she had ever met, the marchwarden did posses a certain quality to him, a passion in the hard glint of his blue eyes.

"She did not say, but a council has been called. You know what stirs in the east, you know we cannot withstand what may come if all fails."

His eyes turned and Gwedhiel turned her face, refusing to meet those bright lit orbs. They would stir her to action she wished not to take. "I am well aware Haldir. I spoke at length with our visitors. You know the chances of their quest failing, perhaps would be better to leave these shores than to stay. I would not trust my fate to such a slim chance."

She could feel his eyes burning into the side of her head refusing to look away as the solemn elleth wished they would. If it were up to her Gwedhiel would have left long ago. Her spirit longed for a place other than Lothlórien. For all it's golden beauty it could not soothe her. No. She belonged elsewhere, over the sea perhaps, and yet she had not left for those distant green shores. Still she stayed, watching as death crawled over the land.

"How can you say such a thing! You would abandon those who carry our hope for your own selfish desire? I know that is not what you truly want." Haldir's voice rose incredulously, forcing itself past her indifference to touch at her heart. Still, she did not speak and he pondered her slowly before speaking again. "It was his son wasn't it."

Gwedhiel flinched and turned a wild, startled glare on the marchwarden, denying it with her lips. "Legolas has nothing to do with it Haldir. I am weary of this place, I wish to leave and find peace. Have you no respect for that? Many wars I have fought and now I find they were all for nothing! Sauron has returned despite our victory and he may yet rise again. I do not wish to see what death he will cause again. I cannot bear it."

Haldir's eyes softened and he reached out a hand, touching her shoulder. It was all Gwedhiel could do not to flinch away from that small gesture. She did not want his pity or scorn.

"That is why you must stay mellyn nín*."

A breath hissed through her clenched teeth and she shook his hand off, stepping quicker to escape his soft words. She would not fight in the coming war. She would not!

"Come Haldir, we are wasting time with this chatter."

Thankfully, the ellon dropped the subject and followed after her with wry eyes and a small, unhappy twist to his lips. They ascended through the trees, reaching soon the council room of the Lord and Lady of Lothlórien.

It was a neat room, decorated richly with tapestries on the walls and wide windows that looked out upon the trees below. An oak table dominated the space, chairs standing to attention in strict rows down either side of their commander. The Lady Galadriel sat at the head of the table and Lord Celeborn sat at her right hand. Though the couple had not taken up rulership of Lórien after the death of Amroth they dictated much of what went on within the forest.

Gwedhiel slowed her pace to a more respectable speed, calming the look on her face to one of politeness. She doubted the Lady would be fooled by her facadé but it was enough for the other elves here. It wouldn't do for them to be aware of her anger. This was a council meeting not a heart-to-heart talk with friends.

Dropping into a seat she nodded to Rumil, Haldir's youngest brother, the look in her eyes softening. He was to her a younger brother since she had spent much time with him when he had been a child, and what an adorable child he had been. In those days her heart had been darker but he had been a light, a piece of hope. Elven children were special and none were more special to her than young Rumil.

Haldir sat down next to her, laced his fingers together, and sent her one last look which Gwedhiel pointedly ignored. She'd had much practice ignoring his looks.

It seemed they had been the last to arrive and for that the elf was thankful.

"Welcome friends." Galadriel began, her voice was deep for an elleth but firm and melodious. It carried grace and the weight of leadership that lent to it the power to command all in her presence with just a word. None could lightly ignore the beautiful lady for fear of rather severe consequences. The last person to do so had not fared wpell even after recovering from several mysterious wounds.

Gwedhiel's eyes filtered around the room taking note of the participants. Besides herself there were five others in attendance. There was Haldir and his youngest brother, Rumil, of course. Proud and tall, their father, Lord Thandaer, sat near the head of the table. On the opposite side sat a delegate from Imladris, Elrond's son Elledan along with the Lord Glorfindel.

Few it seemed could be spared even for a council of war. It did not come as a surprise. Most elves would be busy with their own defenses, sparing little time to send delegates to the other strongholds. This war was not one they could fully involve themselves in. The age of the elves was over. Their race dwindled and long had their days of glory passed.

It was a surprise even that two important lords from Imladris had come. The journey would have been perilous even for two elven lords such as Elladan and Glorfindel. Still, the sentiment was appreciated. Lórien and Imladris would stand together.

Elladan's eyes glanced to her and then flickered quickly away without a greeting nod. Gwedhiel's eyebrows rose in surprise, but she thought nothing of it until it happened again, this time with Lord Thandaer.

Her brow deepened into a frown watching as the eyes of the elves around her would flick back and forth from herself to Lady Galadriel. Something was going on here and she had not yet been informed.

The majority of her attention returned to the Lady as she shifted instinctively to perch upon her chair than that sit on it.

"As you all know war has come upon us. Much of it is unavoidable but there is yet hope. The ring bearer and his company journey forward, and with them goes the hope of both men and elves. We have done for them that which we can, and now our gaze must turn toward Mirkwood." She paused, eyes skimming across those gathered before her, grave and solemn. "Dol Guldur remains a stronghold of the enemy and its forces gather to attack us. Though Smaug was destroyed, the threat remains.

I spoke with Legolas Thranduilion about the borders of the forest. There is great turmoil and much evil stirs there. I fear the forest kingdom will suffer an attack. They must make an alliance with the men of Dale and the dwarves of Erebor else they may not survive the coming war."

An uncomfortable feeling began to itch it's way into Gwedhiel's mind as she slowly began to put the pieces together. Mirkwood, Legolas, and alliance, the furtive looks, her own admission to the council. The Lady Galadriel wanted something of her and the elleth had a feeling she would not be pleased.

As the powerful elf continued to speak, the feeling only grew, sinking under her skin, pinching and stinging until she found it hard to sit still. What did Galadriel want of her? For what reason had she been called to the council? Though she was privy to the knowledge of the quest of the fellowship, it was rare for her to be specifically invited to a meeting such as this.

Her deep blue eyes skittered around the room again, coming to rest upon Rumil. It was odd that he too had been invited. By the standards of elves, he was yet young and untried so there was no reason for his presence here.

Glancing at Galadriel, she discarded the randomness of his inclusion. The lady would not have had no reason for it.

She shifted in her seat, fingers ruffling her tunic uncomfortably. Something was going on and Gwedhiel did not like it. Not one bit.

"Lord Elrond has prepared a letter for King Thranduil advising him to seek such alliances with the dwarves and men, but I fear he may take some convincing to do so. We all know his stubbornness and ill-will towards dwarves."

Here several amused chuckles rose to fill the room. Indeed, the nature of the woodland realm's King was well know and it brought no little source of amusement to the other elves to make fun of it.

At the mention of the King however, Gwedhiel's brows scrapped down into a deep frown. Now she was beginning to understand.

Once, a very long time ago she had been friends with the king, maybe slightly more. It was difficult to say since they had been at war then. The battles fought together had brought them close.

What did it matter though? He probably didn't even remember. But Galadriel did, and she knew the importance of defending the woodland realm against Sauron's armies. The Lady would use this bond in hopes of persuading the stubborn king.

Her lips curled up into a begrudging smile and her eyes flicked over to Rumil. So that was why he was here, to convince her if she refused. How very clever of the lady of Lórien, but then no less was to be expected. Still, it rankled to have been so easily played, and it was not as though she could refuse. Not without suffering and being forced into agreeing through some backhanded means or another. No. She could not get out of this now.

Lady Galadriel's bright eyes met the dark ones of Gwedhiel and each saw within the other an understanding, one pleased and the other begrudging.

"Gwedhiel will deliver the message to Thranduil and stay there as an emissary for our people. Rumil, you will ride with her as her guard and, should she fall, you will take up her task. Are we in agreement?"

Two heads nodded, one irritated and the other excited.

"Very well, for now the two of you are dismissed to prepare yourselves for the journey, but Gwedhiel I would speak to you afterwards."

"Yes my Lady. I will come when you call for me."

The two elves rose and bowed, exiting the room.

Gwedhiel's hope for quiet on the walk back was instantly shattered by the far more exuberant elf beside her.

"Mirkwood Gwedhiel! Can you imagine it? I hear it is very different from our woods."

She smiled slowly, unable to help it in the face of her young friend's smiling face. "That it is Rumil. It is darker, more rugged and untamed. It is a place of wild things, much unlike our home here."

Short flashes of it drifted through her conscience. A dark forest, thick and stifling, yet somehow comfortable as if they banded together as one. There had been a deep sense of camaraderie between the towering beasts, a oneness to their thoughts and purposes. But it was a wild place full of ancient knowledge and long forgotten secrets. Though the trees were as one, many who walked beneath them were not welcome.

It was a dangerous place.

"You have been?" he asked in surprise.

Her head dipped slowly, the words tugging from her mouth as if she did not wish to speak it out loud. "Indeed I have, but that was many long years ago. Far before you were born and I have not returned since then."

"Why is that?"

His curiosity bored holes into the side of her face, forcing her to speak.

"Because I am afraid."

"You? Afraid? Of what?"

Shooting him a withering look, she turned with the shake of her dark curls. "It does not matter Rumil, now hurry up and go get ready. We leave on the dawn."

With a bright grin he bounded off, moving towards his own taran with long strides. What he lacked in elegance, he more than made up for with energy and vibrancy. Smiling fondly at the retreating back, Gwedhiel turned off onto a different walkway, the pace of steps picking up until she moved at a swift gait that just bordered on jogging.

It didn't take long to reach her home

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><p><strong>All credit for the world and most characters go to Tolkien. I cannot claim such an amazing work. If only ;)<strong>

**Let me know what you think. Leave a comment or send a message. **

**Blessings, **

**Inquisitor**

***my friend**


	2. Ch 2 The Reason Why

**Chapter 2 The Reason Why**

Second Age 3434

_The graceful elf walked unhappily through the camp, ignoring the untrusting looks of the silvan elves that populated the forest of tents around her. She was not here for them, but for her own king's sake. By his order alone did she step foot into the camp of King Oropher and his troops. _

_Her lip curled up in poorly disguised distaste at the sight of them. Still, she thought, at least they had come to war with the rest of the alliance. In this at least the elves were of one mind. The defeat of Sauron and his army. _

_Many had gathered on the plains before the Morannon. Banners waved in the wind, flapping about like bird trying to escape a piece of rope that tied them to the ground. Like them, Gwendhiel too longed to be free. Free of this camp that was. Gladly would she fight for her king, but not for these elves. _

_But she had no choice in the matter. With a long sigh, the elleth strode on towards the tent of King Oropher. She knew it by the banner it flew, a black outline of a leaf on a green background fluttering in the breeze. Her feet moved towards it slowly, almost dragging against the ground with distaste. _

_Nonetheless, she reached the tent and paused a moment while the guards stationed at the front announced her presence. A voice called her to enter. _

_That was the first time she saw him._

* * *

><p>Third Age, 18th of February, 3019<p>

The day wore on quickly as Gwedhiel skittered about Lórien arranging for her trip, gathering supplies, and generally running about like a chicken with no head. By the time she made it back to her home to pack her clothing the afternoon was wearing on and dappled shadows chased themselves across the floor, dancing over the grey wood with ease.

The shadows slowly lengthened as she folded and refolded her clothes, dallying her way through the process trying not to think. Unfortunately, what few belongings she wanted to bring with her were not much to pack. Saddle bags could only hold so much, and hopefully anything she could not pack now would be provided for upon arrival.

Finally, she could delay no longer.

Muttering something about soap, she took one last glance at the scarred leather saddlebags and then sighed. There was no more to be done, fabricated work or not.

She settled the two bags on the end of her bed and then sat, lacing slender fingers together wishing it had taken longer to pack. Right now, she did not want to think about the long forgotten King of Mirkwood. He had left her mind in peace for many years, but now his presence was back. It was not one she welcomed with open arms.

With him came thoughts of war, of death, and most of all of loss. Such loss she had suffered. It had taken many years for the elleth to overcome that war and find joy in her spirit again. Her fëa had eventually been restored but not without much suffering first.

War, Gwedhiel knew, would only bring about more pain. And yet...yet she could not desert her people now. They would suffer more if she left as would the other races that inhabited Middle-Earth. Haldir had been right, much as she hated to admit it. She could not leave now, could not turn her back. No. She had spent too long fighting for the peace they held so dear.

The battle was not over yet and she refused to leave it only half done.

Just, was there not some other way she could help? Why did it have to be Thranduil of all elves? Anyone but him would do. Could she not go to Imladris instead?

Gwedhiel sighed heavily, unlacing her fingers and then re-lacing them. Lady Galadriel had already proclaimed her will and she had agreed to follow it. There was no turning back now, her path was set and she would walk forward.

Thranduil. His name always burned red in her mind.

Her thoughts turned hesitantly to the king of the forest realm with no little bit of apprehension. Since the Last Alliance she had heard scant news of him, never seeking it out nor often staying to listen to what did come. She knew but a little of what had transpired at the Lonely Mountain, content after hearing the ellon had lived.

_What would it be like to see him again?_ Gwedhiel wondered. Would he recognize her? Would she recognize him? It had been over a thousand years since then and much changed in so long a time; even for elves who changed little much could happen.

He had a son now. That was proof enough of change. Here her thoughts dragged even more, reluctant to continue this path of thinking. It wound down delicate emotions and hidden back stairways to her heart. Yet, she could not resist. It meant he'd had a wife, but she knew nothing of the woman.

_Nor do I want to know anything!_ she thought vehemently, directing her mind away from such a topic within an instant of addressing it. The road was still too tender to step upon.

A knock at her door startled Gwedhiel and she lept up, heart pounding. Her gaze locked onto the wooden door baring her home, slowly she shook herself and moved to open it.

Outside stood a messenger, waiting stiffly for her presence. Upon seeing her, he nodded politely.

"The Lady Galadriel requests your presence in the hall."

"Thank you, I will be there shortly."

The messenger left, moving on to deliver some other report elsewhere and Gwedhiel shut the door, leaning gently against it. Her heart was still pounding in surprise. Too deep in thought she had been to hear the approach of the elf.

How annoying.

Heart beat back under control, Gwedhiel left her abode and set a quick pace for herself, winding rapidly through the walkways between the tree boughs. It took the fast moving elleth little time to reach her destination, and this time she made no effort to hide her displeasure.

"Lady Galadriel," she greeted with a terse bow.

The golden lady chuckled softly and rose from her perch upon her dais. She stepped down gracefully, dress flowing about her beautiful form.

Dressed in leggings and a simple tunic, Gwedhiel always felt drab before the lady, and truly she was. By the standards of elven beauty, she did not rank particularly high. Her features were striking perhaps but not elegant or delicate like most.

Galadriel smiled and extended an arm. "Come my dear, walk with me."

Taking the arm with a wry twitch of the lips, Gwedhiel joined Galadriel as they left the hall moving towards a more secluded area to speak.

They passed into a little used hallway that had no windows, just open arched entrances at the fore and back. Delicate moldings wound their way across the ceiling and bright tapestries hung upon the wall depicting images of the Eldar and more glorious days of the first age. It was to Gwedhiel a poor way to make up for the lack of windows.

"I hope you are not too angry with me Gwedhiel for sending you off without asking your permission."

"No my lady."

"You should know better to lie to me." Bright eyes regarded her with amusement.

Gwedhiel sighed, tempted for a moment to roll her eyes but stopped herself from that. "I am...upset."

"I can tell."

"It's your fault, my lady."

"Yes it is."

There was a pause, then another sigh.

"Must I go?"

"You must."

"Very well."

Galadriel chuckled at the resignation in Gwedhiel's voice, smiling gently at the dark-haired elleth.

"I do not send you there to torment you Gwedhiel. I think you will find this journey to be good for you. It will bring you peace if you allow it to."

"Really?" she asked, looking very skeptical. Few things managed to do that, and Gwedhiel doubted a constant reminded of her past could manage to bring her peace. That was what caused her the trouble in the first place.

"It will if you let it. It will be up to you of course. Now, on to more important matters. First, I want you to be on your best behavior Gwedhiel. Don't let Rumil drag you into any of his usual antics."

"Of course I'll be on my best behavior!" Gwedhiel exclaimed, affront at implications otherwise, though she did not deny her occasional lack of behavior when involved in the young elf's schemes. They had gotten into a lot of trouble before.

"I'm sure you will be, I just felt the need to remind you - don't make that face at me Gwedhiel - yes, I saw it. Thranduil may not be expecting you since we have not sent any word ahead of your task. I don't know how he will greet you or Elrond's proposal but he _must_ make that alliance. I am relying on you to convince him of this." Solemn eyes turned on hers.

"Is that why you chose me? Because I once knew the king and you think he may honor our bond of friendship?"

"I hope that he will. This is a time when trust wears thin when it most needs to be strong. War is upon us and I know that Thranduil does not like myself or Elrond much, neither have we tried to ingratiate ourselves with him. It is our own fault of course, but there is little to be done now. I am trusting in you to direct the will of the council. I know you can do this Gwedhiel. You have a pure heart."

"Thank you for your confidence in me, but don't expect too much of me. Our friendship happened many long years ago and he may have forgotten me." Gwedhiel hedged.

"Perhaps, but I want you to go anyways." Galadriel's bright blue eyes glittered in laughter knowing what the other elleth was trying to do. She would not get out of this no matter what methods she tried be it begging, trickery, or not so subtle arguing.

"Fine."

"Don't sound so sad about it, try to smile a little bit. I'm not sending you to prison." Galadriel chided and this time Gwedhiel did roll her eyes. The lady merely chuckled and moved on. "Now then, evening draws on and it is time for dinner. Would you care to join me? Elladan has agreed to join my husband and I and I'm sure he would like to speak with you."

Gwedhiel pondered it for a moment and then nodded. She would be glad to join someone else for dinner and Elladan would easily distract her from unsavory thoughts of her possible future.

"I would be most grateful."

Galadriel nodded as if she had expected as much and the two elleth headed off to dine.

Dinner was a pleasant affair, perhaps not as bright as Gwedhiel might have wished, but entertaining enough. Elladan was a wonderful dinner partner and made effort to make her laugh, telling stories of he and his brother's many terrible adventures of mischief. Some of them the elleth had heard before, but they were always hilarious no matter how many tellings were given.

Galadriel regaled them with a few stories of her own more precocious days, she spoke lightly and smiled much. It was a distraction the dark haired elleth was very thankful for.

Time passed quickly with no thoughts of war, past friends, and kings entering her mind. Yet, all too soon dinner was done and she was saying goodnight. Elladan excused himself too, and together the two elves left the lovely halls of the Lord and Lady.

"I hope you are not mad." Elladan murmured as they walked together.

Gwedhiel frowned, "why does everyone assume I'm mad?"

"Your eyes can't disguise your feelings. I know you well enough to tell when you are upset."

"Really?" she muttered, irritated.

"And you always scrunch your nose like that." Elladan added with a smirk.

She turned a glare on him getting a laugh in return for her pains.

"Well, are you upset about being sent to Mirkwood or not?"

Gwedhiel sighed and cast her eyes to the sky. The stars glittered bright in the vast velvet expanse above them, winking as if they knew some grand secret she did not. Sometimes she really despised the stars. They were so distant and cold. What did they care for the worries of those below? If only they were not so indifferent to suffering, maybe then she could forgive their cold gleam.

"I was upset," she said after a time. "Thoughts of the woodland king are not ones I welcome with joy."

"Do you never refer to him by name?" Elladan queried, cutting into her thoughts.

For a moment Gwedhiel was annoyed, but then she thought about it. "No, I suppose I don't"

"Try it." he prompted and she pursed her lips skeptically. "Come on just once. It's easy enough even you could manage it."

"I know how to say his name Elladan. I've said it before."

"Then say it again...unless you're afraid. You know names can't make you sick."

"Fine." she declared with ire, then paused, drawing in a breath. "Thranduil. There, I said it. Happy now."

Her eye was twitching slightly in warning so Elladan nodded sagely, thinking it better to shut up now than to keep pushing.

"Quite happy."

Dark blue eyes narrowed at the ellon, but Gwedhiel let it pass. "Now, as I was saying, I am not mad anymore. I understand why Lady Galadriel asked for me to go. I was friends with...Thranduil," she forced the name out, "once upon a time. It makes sense for me to go."

Elladan nodded, pleased that she understood the reasoning behind the order for her to go. Despite his age, he knew some of what had happened in the war against Sauron. His father had explained to him parts of Gwedhiel's history and why she was the best choice to send to Mirkwood.

"I'm glad you are at peace with it."

"Peace? Who said anything about peace? I only said I wasn't mad, that hardly means I want to go. I don't have a choice in the matter with Lady Galadriel asking me. You know I can't say no to her, and even if I did she would find some way to make me go anyways, a more painful way."

Chuckling, Elladan nodded. About that she was most certainly correct. Lady Galadriel was not an elf anyone went against, she was far too fearsome for that. Perhaps not even his own father would dare cross the lady of Lórien.

"Well, thank you for agreeing to go. You made it much easier for the rest of us by not fighting."

She snorted, "I made it easier for me not you. I don't want a fight."

By that time they had reached Gwedhiel's home and, upon saying goodnight, the two elves parted ways with smiles. She watched for a second as he left, starlight glinting down on his form before stepping into her home.

Now if only she could get through the rest of the night with as much ease.

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><p><strong>My muse is working over time. I already have another chapter I'm fairly pleased with. Onwards we go! <strong>


	3. Ch 3 The Same Question

**Chapter 3 The Same Question**

Second Age 3434

_He had reminded her of a star. Pale grey eyes lit from within, glittering indifferently, glossy silvery hair, an impassive expression, he gazed down from above, uncaring, apathetic. It was easy to see from his carriage he thought himself above others, a lofty being of the far off sky. It was a cold, cold beauty. _

_Gwedhiel hated it._

_Her only consolation was that his father was not so aloof. They were as different as night and day, as the stars and the sun. Oropher soothed her and he grated. _

_She couldn't wait to get away._

* * *

><p>Third Age, 27th of February, 3019<p>

The campfire sputtered, flicking out sparks like little feelers, searching for something else to burn. It pushed at the boundary that kept it burning in one place, feeling, waiting, searching for a way out, a way to spread. It was a living thing, and it wanted to roar.

Sometimes Gwedhiel thought she understood that desire other times she despised it. The fire gave only two options- either to be locked in a cage, unfulfilled and unhappy, or to have freedom but in doing so to burn yourself and everything else into nothing. Both were choices she could not make, and yet the elleth felt it had to be one or the other. To be sequestered away but safe, or free and dangerous.

The red flames danced tauntingly in her eyes.

A pained hiss drew her thoughts away from the fire. Rumil sat across from her, dabbing lightly at his wounded arm with a damp cloth, flinching each time he so much as brushed the bloody and bruised skin.

With a long suffering sigh, Gwedhiel rose and moved to help him, grabbing the cloth with a muttered, "give me that."

Rumil didn't hand it over without protest.

It was their nineth day of travel and the company of two had quickly grown lax, settling into a sense of comfort as they moved swiftly. Nothing had moved in the forest around them the days before, nor had they been attacked in the night. It had been a beginner's mistake to think they were safe.

The two elves had run into a small party of orcs during the late afternoon, not more than ten of them, but it had been a challenge. The orcs had hidden downwind of their horses and ambushed the two riders as they galloped along the forest road. Surprised, and overwhelmed, the battle had gone poorly at first, both of them taking injuries from the attacking beasts. It had taken a few minutes, but eventually they'd gotten their feet back under themselves and began fighting in earnest. The orcs had been quickly slaughtered after that.

After piling and burning the corpses, they'd hurried on, this time with all senses alert and ready for another attack, but none had come. Camping for the night in a small glen, Gwedhiel had decided warily to chance a fire, for winter was setting in and a cold wind blew down from the north.

They had reached the edges of the Mirkwood forest and the realm of the woodland King. Within the afternoon of the next day, the Lórien elves would find themselves in the hall of Thranduil.

Gwedhiel was _not_ excited.

"Ouch, Gwedhiel, that hurts." Rumil whined piteously, turning a pouting face on her.

"Oh for Eldar's sake Rumil, don't be such a wimp. It would hurt less if you stopped tensing your arm every time I touched it."

"That's because you're rough."

A glare shut the sulky ellon up easily. The cut was one of the lesser wounds he had suffered. It wasn't deep and went only a short ways down his arm, but it had bled for a while before the elves had dared to stop to bind their wounds. Now, in the relative safety of their camp, lacerations were properly treated.

It had taken Gwedhiel far less long to bind her own up, not because there were less but simply because she was quick and efficient about it. Rumil danced about his cuts, poking lightly and prodding, a bit like a boy with a stick teasing a snake. He didn't attack it, just agitated it and nothing ever gone done.

Gwedhiel was the type who would charge the snake, chopped its head off and promptly forgot about it; at least when it came to wounds, emotions were another matter entirely.

"Ow, stop that - what are you - no, hey, I can do that myself!" Rumil tore the bandages out of her hands with a glint of terror in his voice. He'd heard stories about the one and only time the rough handed elleth had volunteered to work in the healing tents. After a myriad of mishaps, one rumored to have involved a needle, a bedpan, and a goat, she had been kicked out and, in no uncertain terms, been warned never to come back.

"Fine," she muttered grumpily, letting him have the white cloth. More than aware of the stories about her single day of healing, Gwedhiel had no doubt about what was going through young Rumil's mind. Many of the stories had been blown far out of proportion, but she had never lived it down.

He was still terrified. Her eyes narrowed. "What are you thinking about?"

Rumil gulped and refused to meet the blue-eyed elf's sharp gaze as he muttered an answer under his breath.

"What was that Rumil? I couldn't hear you."

"Nothing," he muttered a little louder, perfectly aware of the consequences of saying anything else.

Gwedhiel nodded. "That's what I thought. I'll take first watch, you get some rest."

Turning her back to the fire, she moved to settled down against a tree stump just a short ways away. Blinking, it took a few moments for her eyes to adjust to the lack of light, the glare from staring into the fire left them blind. Behind her she could hear Rumil shifting about, scuffling with his bed roll until he found a comfortable position and settled.

The forest around them was loud to the elf's sensitive ears, full of the noises of night. Crickets sang their ballads, owls called in the trees, bugs droned a sleepy song, even the trees rustled quietly whispering secrets to their neighbors. Despite the mundaneness of it, the elleth still felt unsettled.

This was the outskirt of Mirkwood after all. The trees grew close, twisting to form winding tunnels between their ancient trunks. Even in their tiny glen little illumination filtered through the leafy bows above, hiding them from the light of the moon.

A shiver ran down Gwedhiel's back.

These woods loomed. They leered and rose in ominous shadows around her, a darkened cage or, perhaps, a locked chest. It was full of secrets she could not know. Not anymore.

"Gwedhiel."

The sound of Rumil's voice drew her attention to him, though one eye stayed warily on the forest. "Yes?"

"Will you be okay?"

"Of course, that sword barely clipped my shoulder. It'll be bruised pretty bad but nothing more than that."

The young elf chuckled sleepily, and she could hear the sound of rustling blankets. "That's not what I meant. I meant will you be able to do your job? Ada* told me a little bit about the last war and some of what you suffered..."

"He had no right to talk about that."

"I know, I'm sorry, but I pleaded with him. Anyways, will you be okay? I want to know before we get there so I can protect you however I have to."

"What is with you people and asking these questions. First Lady Galadriel, then Elladan, now you. It's like you all think I'm some glass vase that'll break if you so much as touch it," she complained, but Gwedhiel was smiling softly as she did so. Their concern was touching if unwarranted. "Yes, I'll be alright. He's probably forgotten all about me by now, it's been a long, long time."

"You'd be pretty hard to forget muinthel nín*"

She chuckled softly, rolling her eyes towards the heavens. Too sweet an elf he was. "You flatter me little one."

"I'm not flattering you and don't call me that. I'm not little anymore."

"No of course you aren't. That was why you were whimpering when I cleaned your wound for you."

"Hey! Anyone would whimper with you doing that no matter their age."

"Would you like to repeat that?"

There was a short pause as he seemed to ponder whether to answer with snark or contrition. Finally he decided. "No, I'm good."

"Hmm."

A gentle quiet settled between them, a tiny bubble of peace protecting the two elves from the oppressive world beyond and the dark trees. The outside seemed to press in and around searching for a weak spot, but it found none.

Soon, Gwedhiel could hear the sound of steady, deep breathing coming from the other side of the campfire. Rumil was asleep. A tiny smile stole across her face. She remembered the first time she had taken the boy out on a hunting trip, he'd fallen asleep halfway through the day, nearly toppling from the saddle. Apparently he had barely slept the night before, unable to close his eyes because of excitement. Those day had long passed, he was no longer that exuberant young boy but rather a tall and handsome ellon.

Rumil had inherited his mother's beauty with straight dark hair that fell about his face like a tiny night sky shot through with little glints of silver. Laughing blue eyes sat jovially in his face and there was a ready smile upon his lips. So light was he, sometimes Gwedhiel thought he might just sprout wings and fly away.

The night wore on, the crickets sang, the owls hooted, and bugs droned. Nothing changed and nothing else stirred in the darkness.

With the turning of the hours came the turning of Gwedhiel's thoughts and eventually she came to the one thing she had not yet allowed herself to consider. What if Thranduil did remember her? She had said it so many times now, she nearly had herself convinced he wouldn't know her...but what if he did?

She needed to consider it and prepare for the possibility he might. Despite the thousands of years that lay between their association of seven years, in those few years they had known each other well. They had been together constantly.

The Gwedhiel from those days he'd known intimately, not in a physical sense of course, but many times their thoughts had been one. Just thinking about it made her chest ache. Never before had she known such a friendship nor since. They had fought together, wept together, joked together. They had shared their deepest moments as one on the battlefield.

She remembered those times vividly, nights spent around a flickering fire trying to keep each other's spirits up, sharing laughter with the other elves. They had laughed so hard and wild trying to drive out the suffering and loss of the day with loudness and happiness of the sound. It had seemed to work at the time.

They had been more than friends. They had been comrades in arms, it was a bond that went far deeper. She had trusted him with her life and he had trusted her with his.

Buried far within her in some unrecognized vault she knew part of her would always belong to him. He had been her joy, her small piece of solace in the midst of the black haze of death. In some secret place, she'd been just a little bit in love with him.

"But those days are long gone, surely he won't remember. I have changed much." She whispered aloud as if trying to confirm what she so desperately wished to be true.

But the 'what if' remain, lingering at the edges of her conscience drawn to it like a moth to flame. No matter how much she batted it away it kept coming back.

What if, what if, what if.

Well so what? Maybe he would remember and maybe they would have a tear-stained reunion. She snorted, and maybe pigs would fly. Even if he did know her, she doubted he would cry over her return, the image of it made her laugh softly. Thranduil crying, now that would be the day the world ended.

If he did remember it would be difficult to predict his reaction. Anger maybe, or that indifference she so hated, or maybe something else entirely. This was Thranduil and he was as fickle as the eastern winds.

Folding her hands into her laps, Gwedhiel shifted a bit, moving till a tree root stuck more uncomfortably into her back. It kept her awake better. The hours moved viscously with only her own thoughts for company. They sludged by, thick and goopy.

Her gaze drifted to the little pinprick of light that sat high in the small piece of sky that showed through the trees. How far away it was. A single star in the vast expanse of darkness.

Sighing, she shifted again, eyes skimming the forest and ears pricked for any unwelcome noises. Her watch finally passed and rising, she padded by the glowing embers of the campfire to wake Rumil for his shift.

"Get up, it's your turn."

He woke instantly, at first on edge, then relaxed. "Anything interesting?"

"No, nothing at all."

With a nod, he moved off a ways to keep watch, and Gwedhiel slid into her bedroll, settling as best she could in it. Soon, she was drifting to sleep, the tiniest bit of surprise as the ease with which she dropped off lingering in her dreams.

* * *

><p><strong>In the next chapter we finally get to the happy? reunion. Thoughts? Suggestions? Thanks for the support. <strong>

**Blessings,**

**Inquisitor**

***Dad**

***My sister**


	4. Ch 4 King of the Woodland Realm

**Chapter 4 King of the Woodland Realm**

Second Age 3434

_Night fell quickly in those days, the darkness spreading rapidly over the land as if nature too supported the evil that lay upon it. The night was deep and dark, casting thick shadows across the field of tents, coating the canvas like tar, hard and solid. It pressed down upon the elves, a heavy pack on their shoulders, bowing them beneath its invisible weight._

_Spirit grew dim and flickered in that darkness. _

_A hand touched upon her shoulder and Gwedhiel started, whipping around to see who it was. Grey eyes regarded her with thinly veiled amusement. _

_The elleth glared. "What is it?"_

"_Come." He turned on one heel and walked away, not looking to see if she followed, like she was some dog to trot obediently at his side. That was the way he always spoke, a single command, tone indifferent to her desires. _

_Her jaw twitched angrily but she followed anyways. One day he would find himself on the receiving end, it would be her turn not to care. _

* * *

><p>Third Age, 28th of February, 3019<p>

"Daro!* Who goes there?"

The voice prompted the two elves to rein their horses into a stop. The equines champed at the sudden stop, wary of pausing in the forest. It was darker than Gwedhiel remembered it, and that was saying something. For Mirkwood to have gotten so shadowed meant that evil had a tight hold of the forest land. It gave great pause to the elleth, a warning whispering about her mind telling her to turn back to the golden woods of Lórien, but she could not turn back to the beauty of her home.

Out of the deep boughs emerged a party of elves, their bows cocked and trained on Gwedhiel and Rumil ready to fire at any wrong move.

"We are elves from Lórien bearing a message to your King." Rumil called in answer keeping his voice steady and calm.

_Good_, Gwedhiel thought to herself, pleased by his collected demeanor. Now was not the time to panic or to go on defense. The young elf had a good head on his shoulders, and that head had gotten the two of them out of trouble more than once with his innocent voice and sure tone.

One of the elves advanced, relaxing his taut bow just slightly, eyes narrowed at them. "I will take your message to King Thranduil and you may be on your way."

Gwetheil's horse shifted under her, snorting unhappily at the tension that ran thick in the air about them. Rumil flicked a quick glance at her, looking for direction. She was the one in charge, unfortunately.

"I'm afraid we cannot do that, as I have been asked to deliver this message only to your king. Goheno nin*" She bowed slightly in apology, dipping across her horse.

A thick silence settled into the air as the silvan elves before them seemed to consider slowly her words. An uncomfortable itch made itself known on Gwedhiel's elbow, but she didn't dare move to scratch it. Seconds past quick and yet slow, broad and yet thin. Her hands tightened around the leather reins with a muted creak.

"I will take them." The silence broke as one of the archers stepped forward. Frowns appeared across the faces of the other forest elves, soft mutters travelling between them giving Gwedhiel the distinct impression that warrior was speaking out of turn. She liked the elleth instantly.

The leader of the border patrol party waved her back with a hissed command but the woman stood firm.

"I will take them." She insisted again, refusing to back down.

For a moment, Gwedhiel was afraid the other archers were going to forcibly drag the unknown elleth back into line, but finally their leader nodded tersely. With a jerk of his hand the elves disappeared into the forest like mist leaving only the brave elleth standing on the forest road.

Gwedhiel nudged her horse forwards. "Man i eneth lín*?"

"Síloleth eneth nín*."

"Mae govannen Síloleth*."

The elleth smiled lightly and bowed in return. "Come, I will lead you to the hall of the king."

A piercing whistle split the air and, after a moment, a doe-brown deer filtered through the trees, rising out of them like magic. The silvan archer leapt lightly onto the back of the forest creature and tossed a playful grin at the two astride their horses.

"Let's see if you can keep up."

In a flash the archer was off, her deer running swiftly along the rutted forest path. For a second the two elves were stunned, but then Rumil grinned and urged his horse to move giving chase. Rolling her eyes, Gwedhiel followed at a more reasonable pace preferring not to lame her horse on an unseen hole and ignoring her companion's breach of his duty as guard.

* * *

><p>After a wild chase on horseback through the forest, Gwedhiel was glad to dismount and stretch her stiff legs out on the ground. It had taken one and a half days of riding to get to the fortress in the mountain, and they hadn't slowed once. They had barely stopped for food and rest as their guide teased them on.<p>

She patted her horse, Túveren, affectionately on the nose, whispering her thanks into his ear. Allowing him to be led away, she turned to eye their guide with amusement. The elleth had played a strange game of hide and seek with them, galloping off and then pausing at the end of a blind corner to wait before running off again. Her spritely laughter had been left along with a vague afterimage of a grinning girl, tense with excitement and eyes wide with joy.

"You ride fast Síloleth."

"You ride slow, but what can you expect with such poor mounts."

One dark eyebrow rose on Gwedhiel's face, half irate and half amused. "Is that so?"

"Horses stumble, deer do not." The elleth explained with a blunt shrug. Her candid response shocked the blue-eyed elf into silence, blinking a few times in surprise at the straight-forward reply. "Follow me, the king is waiting for you."

Rumil appeared at her side, face smudged with a blush of red from the exertion of riding so hard, and together the two of them followed Síloleth into the halls. As they entered the palace Gwedhiel's eyes widened slightly and Rumil let out a low gasp of breath. Above them the ceiling sparkled like the sky on a clear night full of stars, it glimmered and winked playfully, reflecting the light of the torches below. Rainbows danced across the floor, catching in the eyes of the two awestruck elves. It was beautiful.

"I have heard tell of this palace being similar Menegroth in beauty, but truly I did not think it possible." Gwedhiel murmured softly. Beautiful it was, but sad too for she knew the beauty was only a reflection, the stones held no light of their own. It was but an imitation of light.

"You two better move before someone walks all over your jaws. They're practically on the floor." Síloleth called with a laugh.

The two slack-jawed elves smacked their mouths shut, Gwedhiel with a glare, and Rumil with an embarrassed look.

"She is very rude." Gwedhiel muttered though there was a smile in her voice. The blunt manner was endearing in a way, and the elleth had stood up for them at the border. It was a deed she would not soon forget. Not without giving proper thanks anyways.

Rumil nodded in response, but he was still too busy gawking at the scenery to pay attention to her complaints. During the course of their journey he had expressed some distaste at the thought of elves living in caves. It wasn't natural he'd said, but actually seeing the halls of Greenwood the Great had seemed to change his mind. Valar knew Gwedhiel's explanation of it being perfectly normal hadn't.

Around them carven pillars reached down from the roof to brush the ground, twisting in intricate carvings like great trees whose wide boughs grow so close that they seem to come down out of a green sky rather than growing up. Indeed, it felt like they were still inside a forest, this one was simply made of stone and not bark.

They followed Síloleth through the twisting passages and Gwedhiel tried to remember each turn but soon she lost track. It was a veritable maze of sloping hallways, carven staircases, and hidden passages. They had come upon several unexpected turns that had appeared out of nowhere, rearing up behind a shuttered hall. It seemed they were not going to the great hall for that would have been a shorter route.

Finally, they came to a wooden door set into a vast expanse of stone. The deep brown of the wood looked out of place in the midst of the vast grey sea. As far as doors went, it was quite lovely, carved with the images of the forest. Deer pranced across its panels and in the center stood a large, majestic elk.

"Why are we not in the great hall?" Gwedhiel murmured, forestalling Síloleth before she could open the door.

"We are at war," replied the elleth, as if that were answer enough. It wasn't, but before the Lórien elf could ask anymore the archer was slipping into the room to announce their presence.

Rumil tugged at his travel worn clothes trying to straighten them out a bit. Gwedhiel merely swallowed, gripping the edge of her tunic nervously.

This was it. The moment she found out if he knew her or not. She hoped he didn't. She also hoped he did. Turmoil raged in her chest, a storm of different emotion, each battling for supremacy. Fear, anger, desire, hope, despair. She drew in a deep breath. There was no telling what would happen.

Síloleth reappeared, gesturing for them to enter.

Fixing her face so that she had on only a polite mask of interest, Gwedhiel stepped through. She could not allow anything else to show on her features.

It was like a blow from the past smacking her full in the face and wrapping around her chest so tight she could barely breath. It was the war room they were stepping into and around a large table sat the different elven lords and warriors. At the fore stood Thranduil bent over a map of the forest, his crown perched upon his head and pale hair flowing about his face like a silver steam.

Her feet stilled and Rumil had to prod her until Gwedhiel found the presence of mind to step forward again. They jolted to a stop just inside the room. It was silent inside and the air was thick with unspoken words as the eyes of all settled onto the two of them.

Flashing back, her mind recalled so many similar instances where she stood in the war tents of kings, watching as they debated over strategy. She recalled them vividly, Oropher, Thranduil, Gil-Galad, and Amdir along with their counselors and generals stood about a table laden with maps and small markers, gesturing wildly as they spoke.

It was as she recalled these times that Gwedhiel missed the tiniest flash of recognition that flitted across Thranduil's face as he saw her. Quickly it was shuttered with his cold indifference, though this one seemed chillier than usual.

He cleared his throat and arched one eyebrow.

At the sound, Gwedhiel finally rose out of her memories, the slightest flush of embarrassment stealing over her cheeks. She bowed, Rumil following her example, taking an extra moment to clear the blush from her face before rising.

"I bring greetings, King Thranduil, from Lórien and Imladris as well as tidings of war."

"Greetings from the White Lady and the Peredhel*. What is the world coming to?"

She ignored his sarcasm and continued. "I bear also a message from Lord Elrond."

There was no doubt about it, he was still Thranduil, aloof and haughty as ever. He still shone like a star so high in the heavens, the brightest but the coldest. Strangely enough, it almost came as a relief to Gwedhiel to know that had not changed, and to know it still made her angry. She hid her irritation being her mask, recalling Elladan's words and straightened her nose out.

"Well, where is this message you speak of? I don't have all day."

Finding herself once again caught out, she started and, abashed at having been so, withdrew the message from where it sat against her breast. With a flick of his hand, Thranduil directed one of his warriors to retrieve from her the creamy package. She handed it over and the quickly clasped her hands together behind her back to keep them from trembling.

It was in that moment, looking at him, that she realized he knew her not. There had been no sign of recognition, no little glimmer in his eyes or voice, just indifference and scorn. He had treated her like any other elf he had ever come across.

Relief blossomed in her chest, but it was quickly replaced by sorrow, and then, strangely, despair. He didn't know her. He really didn't, and that meant she had been right. He had forgotten her. He had...forgotten.

Why was it she suddenly felt like crying?

Her gaze was drawn back into focus as the king's graceful fingers folded the parchment back up, setting it upon the table with distaste, dusting his hands off as soon as it was gone.

"I will prepare a letter in reply and you may leave on the 'morrow."

"I'm sorry my Lord, but I cannot leave. I have been instructed to stay here as an emissary from Lórien and Imladris. I ask you leave to fulfill my duty."

He eyed her, obviously displeased with her request. Silence settled, strained and uncomfortable as he waited to see if she would back down at the force of his grey gaze. When Gwedhiel did not, his jaw clenched in anger.

"What right have Lórien and Imladris to offer me advice? I am not part of their council."

"We have no right, yet it is offered anyways. Yet, you are a wise king and we sincerely hope you will accept it." Here, Gwedhiel bowed again, this time staying down for longer hoping it would be enough. Thranduil could be swayed neither by flatter nor any other means to allow her to stay, he had to agree of his own will.

She could feel his eyes boring into her bent back as she waited for answer before rising. They burnt into her shoulder, heavy and sharp. She felt like a tiny ant, easy to step on, and so obviously beneath his care or notice. It was disturbing to feel so insignificant.

Finally, he spoke reluctantly, as if he wished to do anything but let them stay. "Very well, you may stay for now. Síloleth will show you to your rooms."

Gwedhiel allowed herself to rise, keeping her polite mask in place. "Thank you my Lord, we are most grateful for your hospitality."

He nodded once and the turned back to the map, ignoring them as his councilors once again began to speak about the war.

Taking his disinterest as a dismissal, Gwedhiel left the room, Rumil on her heels. Once outside the war room, her polite facade slipped and was quickly replaced by a scowl of epic proportions.

"He is still an awful person."

"He was always like that?" Rumil asked, a little surprised. He had heard from others that the king of Greenwood was unpleasant, haughty, and sometimes downright impetuous, but it still came as a surprise to see just how right they were. He had thought to stories were exaggerated for comedic effect, but obviously they weren't.

"Oh yes, if anything he has gotten worse."

Rumil paled a bit.

Síloleth appeared, bouncing down the hallway with a grin that seemed almost too bright as if it was forced. She slid to a stop before them.

"You're scowling, so I guess that means my king was rude?"

"Indeed." Gwedhiel answered.

Síloleth laughed, though this too seemed overhappy. "Alright then, follow me and I'll show you to your rooms. If you need anything just ask and I'll be happy to help."

* * *

><p><strong>Thank you for all the follows and likes! Feel free to leave a comment though, it's more inspiring. ;)<strong>

**Blessings,**

**Inquisitor**

***halt **

***sorry**

***what is your name?**

***Síloleth is my name**

***Well met Síloleth**

***half-elf (in reference to Elrond)**


	5. Ch 5 A Strange Conversation

**Chapter 5 A Strange Conversation**

Second Age 3434

"_You don't like my son." It was a statement and not a question. Looking at Oropher, Gwedhiel felt she could not deny it so she shook her head._

"_No, I do not." she answered truthfully. _

"_But he's adorable! How could you not love him?"_

_Gwedhiel tried, she really did, but the rolling of her eyes could not be stopped as __the elven king went into 'I love my adorable son' mode. It was truly not flattering._

"_My Lord, I don't mean to be rude-"_

_He cut in, "Yes you do. You always mean it when you're rude."_

_She gave him a flat look. "In any case, your son is an insufferable, arrogant elf who cares not for anything. He is colder than the winter wind."_

_Oropher pouted for a second before his eyes turned shrewd. The forest king was not a fool. "How would you know that? Have you ever spent any time with him beyond the meetings?"_

"_Well...no."_

"_Then I don't think you know him well enough to say titheniel*. Find him tonight, sit with him, listen to him, then tell me what you think tomorrow."_

_Gwedhiel frowned but nodded slowly. Perhaps it would be good to get to know the prince a little better, besides she doubted it would change her opinion of him. It was obvious to her what kind of person he was, for she was not family and therefore not required to like him despite his many glaring faults._

* * *

><p>Third Age, 29th of February, 3019<p>

Gwedhiel wasn't quite sure what to make of her room. While she knew without a doubt they were underground, it had been wrought so cleverly that it felt light and open, as if, just beyond the walls, lay the world outside waiting for her. It was this deception that made her so uncomfortable in it.

The outside did not wait just beyond the walls, and how well she knew that. The world was far outside and she was stuck here behind barred doors and a thousand tons of rock, charged with a duty she could not forsake. No, she was well and truly buried here in this fortress beneath the earth. Stuck in the halls of Thranduil, king of Greenwood the Great.

"It's not all bad I suppose," she told her saddlebag, "just mostly."

Sighing soft but sorrowful she tossed the bag away with a roll of her eyes. Síloleth had left her a few minutes ago taking Rumil with her to his room. Refusing to leave her alone, Gwedhiel had practically had to order the young ellon away after assuring him several times that she was perfectly fine.

She loved him of course, he was her younger brother though not by blood, but sometimes he was such a nuisance. Still, it was sweet that he cared so much.

Collapsing onto her bed, she lay there staring up at the ceiling above, studying the moldings that curled their way across the stone. Somehow, now that she was alone and out of the sight of Thranduil she felt fine. The initial shock of his lack of recognition had worn away along with the strange feeling of betrayal. Now, she just felt numb and blank, but in a pleasant way. It kept away the painful feelings that had threatened to swamp her on the way back.

"I wanted him not to remember," Gwedhiel reminded herself softly.

So Thranduil had let her slip from memory. It wasn't worth being upset over, besides there was nothing she could or would do to change it. Things would stay as they were, simple and clean. If he had remembered her this whole trip would have turned into a nightmare.

There had been too much between them that was never resolved. Too much hurt and pain then left to congeal for over a thousand years. It was not something she wanted to drege up. Now, all she needed was a plan to deal with the time she would be spending with the king.

It was still going to be difficult to be around him, despite having reached this state of numbness. Seeing him would bring all the emotion back that being away kept hidden. What could she do though? There was no way to hide from him, not with the imminent war and her duty as emissary. That basically consigned her to staying constantly in the presence of the king, to talking with him.

Her thoughts paused. Would she be able to talk to him without accidentally giving something away? It would be so easy to slip back into those old habits of hers, addressing him by name, teasing him, laughing at him. She could not do that now.

Gwedhiel knew she would just have to be very careful. With a sigh, she rose and glanced around, suddenly feeling dirty and worn from travelling. Padding across the room, there she discovered a hot bath waiting in the room just beyond, the tiniest bit of steam still rising from the clear water. With a pleased smile, she retreated back to grab some clean clothes. A soak would cheer her immensely.

Some time later, just as she finished dressing, a knock sounded on her door. Thinking it Rumil come back to check on her, Gwedhiel rolled her eyes and opened the wooden obstruction. The person standing outside, however, surprised her. It was not Rumil but rather the young elven archer, Síloleth.

Without even waiting for a 'hello' or a 'please come in' the young elleth barged past Gwedhiel and plopped down nonchalantly on her bed.

"Let me brush your hair." The girl demanded, holding out one hand.

Before she realized what she was doing, Gwedhiel had gotten her brush out and was handing it over. That was when her senses returned and she frowned at the brusque, grey-eyed elleth.

"What are you doing here?"

Síloleth sighed and motioned for her to turn down and sit. Once again Gwedhiel found herself obeying without question. A hand plucked at her damp hair, pulling and playing with it before the brush started tugging at her tangled brown curls.

"I don't know." Síloleth finally answered.

"Do you have any idea at all?"

Síloleth hesitated a moment before saying, "no, not really."

"Hmm."

Gwedhiel waited, she had a feeling the girl would eventually tell her if she stayed quiet long enough. For some reason, she found the young archer's presence soothing and her being there gave the blue-eyed elf an excuse not to think about her own problems. It took a few moments of quiet and the steady rhythm of brushing hair before the elleth began to talk.

"Have you ever been in love?"

Gwedhiel blinked. That was not what she had been expecting in the least, but the sudden question managed to jolt and answer out of her. "Yes, I suppose I was once."

"What was it like?"

"Why do you want to know?" Gwedhiel asked, slightly confused and more than a little uncomfortable. This was not the sort of conversation she was used to. Was this what the younger generation of elves talked about? Love?

"I don't know, I just do." Síloleth responded, though it was obvious from her tone that this was not true. Too honest an elf was she to manage lying without giving it away.

Gwedhiel chuckled softly, letting the lie slip past her without comment. Maybe it was the soothing feel of the young elleth brushing her hair, or maybe it was simply that she was too weary to be guarded, but she found herself speaking.

"To put it in a word, love is annoying. It's foolish and silly and the biggest nuisance. It causes no end of trouble and it hurts you more than anything in the world."

"Oh." Síloleth sounded disappointed.

"But," she continued, finding more words on her lips despite herself, "it's also exhilarating and wonderful. You feel like you could leap of the earth, sprout wings and fly."

The girl seemed to consider this for a while.

"I joined the Forest Guard many years ago. It made sense since it had the two things I loved, archery and the most beautiful ellon I've ever seen."

Gwedhiel nodded, suddenly sensing there was something more to this conversation than just love. There was a sadness in Síloleth's voice as she spoke, muted and hidden but there all the same. It was a sadness the Lórien elf was well acquainted with, deep, yearning, and impossible.

"Are you a good archer?" the elleth asked suddenly, changing the topic in the blink of an eye.

Once again bewildered at the sudden question, Gwedhiel shrugged but answered. "I am not bad, maybe not the best though."

Silence descended, and it left Gwedhiel wishing she could look the younger elleth in the eyes. Sitting turned away left her in the dark, but it kept either of them from being too vulnerable as they spoke. Despite that, she would rather have been able to see, to pick up the right ques. Not knowing what to say or where the conversation was going made her fidget in agitation, feeling out of her depth. This was not a typical conversation.

"How good are you, on a scale of one to ten?"

"Síloleth," Gwedhiel said, finally understanding what was going on. It was the desperation in the elleth's voice that gave it away, and beneath that the hidden plea to see the truth.

"What?"

"You are stalling. Just tell me what's on your mind and I promise I will not judge you."

The girl sighed and the brush ceased its' movement before picking up again, a little faster and harder than before. Gwedhiel did not complain.

"I was kicked out of the Forest Guard today."

"What! Why?"

"For helping you," she admitted slowly, as if not wanting to anger the blue-eyed elf.

Gwedhiel took this in quietly, saddened by her part in it. "I am most sorry, but I must thank you for taking us here. Without you offering to take us, I don't think Rumil and I would have made it."

"You're welcome." Síloleth said, relief evident in her voice.

"I could speak to the king for you and ask him to put you back on the guard."

"Why would he listen to you? Besides, he's the one who kicked me off."

"Oh," Gwedhiel murmured slowly, a tint of anger in her voice. Why indeed would the king listen to her, he didn't even know her anymore. She had forgotten. The darkness she had been able to consign to the back of her mind leapt to the fore with remembrance of the king. Instantly she turned her focus back to Síloleth. "Will you be okay?"

"Yes, it's just...just..."

"Just?" Gwedhiel prompted.

The young elleth sighed, setting the brush down on the bed as she began to tug at her hair, drawing it into braids, fingers working more for the sake of movement than the desire to braid. "It's just I'm afraid of what he'll think of me now."

"He?"

"The ellon I like." Síloleth clarified in exasperation, as if she should have already known this.

"Oh, right, of course."

"Well?"

Gwedhiel frowned, not sure what Síloleth wanted her to say. "Well what?"

The silvan elf groaned and gave a sharp tug on her hair, getting a yelp of protest out of the other elleth. "Well, what do you think I should do?"

"I do not-" Gwedhiel began, but then stopped, suddenly aware that saying she did not know would cost her another painful tug of the hair. Instead, she fell quiet, trying to think about it. This really was most out of her depth.

For some reason, she found she wanted to give Síloleth a proper answer, something this obviously love-sick girl needed. Hearing the fear and pain and anger in their girl's voice reminded Gwedhiel of her own days, the few though they were, with Thranduil. What she'd felt for him might not really have been classified as love- she'd hardly felt in love at the time- but it had certainly been more than friendship.

Talking to Síloleth had finally forced her into recognizing this. It was strange because she had not consciously come upon the decision that she had loved Thranduil, the words had just sort of slid out. There had been no 'aha' moment, no light bulb, nothing special, just a vague 'oh, I guess I was in love'.

What surprised Gwedhiel most was that she was not surprised at all to find that love within her. It made sense, it really did. She wanted to deny it, say the war had forced these feelings onto her with the closeness they had shared, but it wasn't true. It wasn't just the war, it had been him, it had always been him.

But then she remembered again. He didn't know her anymore and her revelation didn't matter in the least. Whether she had once loved Thranduil or not, the fact was that they were strangers now and likely to stay that way.

Her mind turned back to Síloleth's problem. The girl, she thought, had really gone to the wrong person to get advice on love. Gwedhiel barely knew a thing about it, and what little she did know was tainted by death, grief, war. Nonetheless, she would try to come up with an answer for the sake of the young archer.

"I do not know if there is a single right answer that you will hear from me," Gwedhiel began again, hesitant and slow, then hurrying on as she sensed the imminent hair tugging, "but, instead, I will ask you a question. What does your heart tell you he will think?"

Síloleth was certainly better qualified to judge this unknown ellon than Gwedhiel was. His entire person was a mystery other than the fact that he was part of the Forest Guard.

"He wouldn't be upset with me for helping you. He'd probably be upset with his father for kicking me out."

Gwedhiel nodded sagely, as if she had known this already, then paused, and frowned. _Wait...hadn't... _She turned around, her hair ripping from Síloleth's hands. "Didn't you say Thranduil kicked you out?"

The girl flushed and clapped a hand over her mouth looking supremely embarrassed. Gwedhiel's eyes went wide, so that meant she liked...suddenly laughter bubbled up from her chest, full and throaty. Truly this was the strangest conversation she had ever had.

"You like the prince then, Legolas?"

Slowly, very slowly Síloleth nodded her head, cheeks blooming into brilliant roses full of embarrassment, but her grey eyes sparkled slightly. Gwedhiel's laughter doubled and she leaned over to hug the girl. What a pair they made, one who had loved the king and the other in love with the prince. At least they both had good taste.

"Stop laughing at me!" Síloleth whispered, feeling mortified by her new friend's continued chuckles.

"I'm not laughing at you," Gwedhiel assured her, giving the girl a little squeeze. Suddenly, she found herself pleased to have met this young elleth and to have shared this conversation with her. It made the weight upon her chest feel a little bit lighter.

"Yes you are, you think it's silly I like a prince. I know you do," she insisted fervently, still bright red, but now partly with anger.

Pulling back from the forced hug, Gwedhiel looked her in the eyes and shook her head. "I do not think it silly at all Síloleth. I'll tell you a secret mellyn nín*."

This managed to grasp the elleth's interest instantly and the young girl leaned in, curious as a cat, eyes gleaming. Gwedhiel paused, waiting until she was almost bouncing with exasperation at the continued silence, then grinned and spoke.

"The ellon I used to be in love with, he was a king."

"What!" Síloleth gasped, then she too was grinning, understanding the hilarity behind their situation, at least in part. "Who was he?"

Gwedhiel had to stop herself from flinching. Really, she should have suspected that one. "It does not matter who he was."

"You cannot do that Gwedhiel. You know who I love, why can I not know the name of your king?"

"It does not matter because the ellon I was in love with is gone."

And the weight was suddenly back, a cold block in her empty chest.

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><p><strong>Thanks for the reviews, likes, and favorites! Tell me your thoughts, I'd love to know them! It helps me out a ton too. This chapter took a little longer, and I'm not too sure if I like it or not, but here it is.<strong>

**blessings,**

**Inquisitor**

***little one**

***my friend**


	6. Ch 6 Dinner Party

**Chapter 6 Dinner Party**

Second Age 3434

_The fire glittered in the shine of the moon, bright and beautiful. It was full of raging passion, glorious and free. Light. _

_Flitting across Thranduil's face came a tiny smile. The fire amused him, it was full of instinct and no thought, just filled with emotion and no logic. What would it be like to have no fetters against passion? To be free like the fire? Yet it too was constrained by the stones around the hearth, locked in place, but even in its prison the fire roared and crackled. It wasn't beaten down but rather fought against its captor. _

_The only question was, could it ever break free? _

_Grey eyes glanced at the company around him. Here, the Alliance was the fire and Sauron the rocks. He hemmed them in, crushing, biting, breaking, but still they resisted. Their fire no longer roared perhaps, but the spark was not gone, all it needed was a stirring breath. Thranduil only wished he knew what that breath would be._

_A figure dropped onto the log next to him, crouching before the flames with hands stretched out. He glanced over, noting the expressive blue eyes that glared at him. It was Gwedhiel, the emissary from Gil-galad's army. _

_His mouth turned down. She did not like him and had taken every chance to make this abundantly clear, though perhaps her distaste was slightly his fault. If only he hadn't...well, there was no use thinking about it now. What was done was done. _

"_Is there something I can help you with?" _

_Her eyes narrowed and she turned away, facing the flames. "No."_

_He nodded once and they spoke no more._

* * *

><p>Third Age, 29th of February, 3019<p>

Only in the safety of his room did Thranduil allowed any emotion onto his face. It started with shock, then surprise, then anger, and ended with indifference. Forced indifference. Long ago had he banished that blue-eyed elleth from his mind and her wily ways. She had caused him nothing but pain and suffering.

His lips pressed together thinly and he stepped forward, hands clasped behind his back as he began to pace across the carpeted room. His butler, Galion, had complained many a time that the woodland king had worn a path into the thick red rug that lay under his feet from all the pacing. At this moment Thranduil didn't care.

He couldn't get those blue eyes out of his mind. They'd been collected, indifferent, bored even as they had watched him. It had been as though she didn't know him, or at least didn't care to.

How long had it been since he'd seen those eyes? Not since the end of the second age so many thousands of years ago. Why had she come back to haunt him?

"Gwedhiel." He spoke the name out loud, formed it softly on his lip, strangely wistful in tone. Sighing delicately, Thranduil pressed a hand to his forehead, massaging his temples. If only he had never met her, if only she had never turned those fiery eyes on him.

Now she was here again, real this time not a half-remembered dream, some disturbed fragment of memory. At the moment he'd seen her Thranduil had barely known what to do. Should he greet her by name, ignore her, spurn her? He'd done none of those though, he'd done what he always did, he'd been indifferent, cold. He'd done what he knew she had hated most.

Ah, but she had been different than he remembered, more tempered and less heated. Time had worn her down from what she had once been. Somehow he found himself saddened by this in some small way, yet the larger part felt it served her right.

Anger at her still burned in his chest, for long it had merely smoldered, hidden and ignored, but the sight of her brought it raging to the fore. How dare she show her face before him! How could she?

His jaw clenched tight and stiff. Thranduil wanted nothing more than to toss her out with her guard and send her back to her accursed lady in Lórien. Some rebellious part of him kept him from that though. It wanted to know how she had changed, who she was now. He hated that part, but most of all he feared what it meant.

* * *

><p>After finally shooing Síloleth from her room, a arduous and extensive ordeal, Gwedhiel collapsed on her bed. The forest-elf had pestered her for hours about who the king was, naming all sorts of long-dead kings from ages yet passed. At first it had been amusing, particularly when the girl rattled off names like Thingol or Finwë. Although, by elven standards Gwedhiel was fairly old, she was hardly old enough to have loved kings such as they.<p>

At that time, she had been but a young child, still soft and innocent. But, as Síloleth went on, she grew closer and closer to the truth. It had been when the girl had gotten to the name Oropher that Gwedhiel had stopped speaking or denying it. The smile had left her voice and eyes, but that had not been enough to dissuade the elleth from guessing.

What had finally ended the questions had been Gwedhiel yelling at the girl to stop asking. Oh, she had apologized straight after, horrified at herself, but Síloleth had been hurt. Soon after she had left once again wearing her too-bright smile.

"Why can I not do anything right?" Gwedhiel asked the ceiling. It, of course, did not reply, and with a groan, she rolled over burying her head in the pillows.

She wanted to go back to Lórien already where her daily life consisted of teasing Haldir, playing pranks with Rumil, and sitting on her bench enjoying the sun shimmering through the trees. Things had been easy and straightforward there, no elleths asking about love, no kings haunting her thoughts, and no wars to worry about.

What frustrated Gwedhiel most was the fact that she had only been here for a few hours.

A knock on her door prompted her to rise wearily and pad to the wooden beast to open it. "Yes?"

A strange elf she had not yet met stood in the doorway. "Dinner is ready my lady, if you would please follow me."

Dinner. The thought of food made Gwedhiel's stomach grumble in hunger and she nodded, stepping out into the hall to follow the elf. It was a good thing she had already bathed and changed into a nicer tunic that fluttered about her form in shades of blue. Her hair had also dried, wrapped into the intricate braids that Síloleth had woven into the dark strands as they talked. Overall, her appearance was acceptable.

As they walked, her gaze drifted to the elf next to her. Pale silver hair fluttered as he walked, framing a fine-boned face with dark eyes. He carried himself as a man of importance, straight-backed and comfortable with the weight of command.

"May I ask you name?" Gwedhiel inquired curiously.

"It is Lord Thalanen and I am his one of his majesty's councilers."

"It is a pleasure to meet you Lord Thalanen."

He nodded in reception of her greeting, "and your name my lady?"

"Lady Gwedhiel, emissary of the Lady Galadriel and Lord Elrond."

"That is a most lengthy name."

Gwedhiel blinked and eyed the elf with suspicion. Was he teasing her? His face was too inscrutable to tell, so she did not respond and allowed the former silence to drop back into place like a heavy curtain.

Soon they reached the dining hall and Gwedhiel marveled at its magnificence. It was graceful full of arches that sloped like the neck of a swan, beautiful and elegant each pillar worked with intricate carvings that spiraled in delicate designs of leaves across the open ceiling.

Thankfully, her awe at the hall did not stop her feet from following Thalanen across the room as he lead her to her seat. It was only when they were almost there that Gwedhiel became aware of her position. Reaching the fore of the hall, she found herself facing the king's table and his cold, indifferent eyes.

A flush lit up her face, half from embarrassment at having been seen staring at the ceiling and half from anger at him for making her feel embarrassed. Her chin tilted down, but her bound hair could not hide her face from him so she stared at the floor.

Thalanen led her to the seat of honor next to Thranduil, pulling out the chair to allow her to sit. Gwedhiel tried to swallow the lump in her throat as she nodded her thanks to the elven lord, taking her seat. The lord took his own seat next to her, marking him as an important elf in the royal court.

Rising, Thranduil began dinner with a speech welcoming the delegation from Imladris and Lórien. It was trite and halfhearted, delivered as if he really couldn't care less but was doing it merely for appearances sake. Gwedhiel had no doubt this was true.

As he sat, dinner began.

Suddenly, Gwedhiel found her appetite waning as the presence of the king washed over her in violent waves. It tossed her heart about, throwing it this way and that till she felt almost ill.

"You find our fare distasteful?"

Thranduil's voice startled her in its sudden melodious question, his tone hinting warning of displeasure if she gave the wrong answer. It took her a second to come up with a response. "No, my lord, I was simply lost in thought."

She reached out a hesitant hand and took hold of her fork, nibbling politely at the food on her plate. Every bite felt like a heavy weight in her stomach. It didn't help that she could feel his eyes lingering on her, watching, judging, leaving a clear feeling that she was obviously found wanting.

Scattered thoughts wheeled about her head, twisting into jumbled sentences, pieces of memories, and broken emotions. She barely knew what to do sitting here next to him, doused in the cold that emanated from his gaze.

Gwedhiel set down her fork and reached out to take a sip of the wine in her glass. Rich and strong, it slid down her throat centering her thoughts until they began to move sequentially once more. She set the cup down with a clink.

"You like the Dorwinion?"

Once again, his question caught her unawares, but she managed a timely nod. "It is a pleasant wine, but strong."

"Indeed." His voice was cordial and polite, tinted with indifference. Likely he asked merely because of the requirements of polite society that prompted him to at least speak with his guest. Gwedhiel doubted he really cared whether she enjoyed the wine or not.

An awkwardness fell over the table as neither one of them quite knew what to say to the other. Conversation was slow between them, broken by many cold pauses and sips of wine.

Gwedhiel honestly did not know what to say to the king. Once they had talked for hours, so much that the elves around them had often been irritated with their playful chatter. It was odd now to speak with him as one who did not know him. Yet, she felt too that this was true. Time _had_ changed Thranduil, he was a king now not merely a prince or a comrade in arms.

If she was honest with herself, Gwedhiel knew that everything had changed. She had changed, he had changed, their circumstances had changed. They no longer knew each other, just some semblance of who they each used to be. Or they would have if he had recognized her.

Realizing that made it far easier not to fall into her habits of old. It reminded her to address Thranduil properly, to speak politely, and most of all to hide her emotions with a pleasant look. Hiding emotions was something she managed well- except when it came to friend- in fact, she was sometimes so convincing she even fooled herself.

Thankfully, Lord Thalanen on her other side managed to draw her into a much more interesting conversation. As they discussed the finer points of calligraphy, something they both enjoyed, Gwedhiel could feel a pair of cold grey eyes watching her every now and again. It peaked her anger at him till it was difficult to stop herself from turning to tell him to stop staring at her like she was some little bug he could squash with a careless finger.

Dinner passed slowly, taking far longer than Gwedhiel would have liked to end, and once it did she found weariness bearing down upon her like a load of bricks. It hit heavy and fast, and suddenly her eyes were drooping and she was yawning. She bayed Lord Thalanen a pleasant goodnight, declining his offer of an escort back to her room, then turned to the king.

"I am sorry my lord, but I must ask permission to excuse myself. I fear my weariness from the ride here is catching up with me."

"Very well."

When he offered no wishes for a pleasant night, Gwedhiel rose, fighting down her irritation at him as she left her seat of honor. It was certainly an honor she wished she had not been granted. Sitting next to Thranduil had been extremely uncomfortable, particularly when he had attempted to speak to her.

As she left the hall, Rumil slid up to her side with a comforting smile, which she returned easily, glad of his presence. Having him with her was like having a little piece of normality, something she dearly wished for right now. All, Gwedhiel wanted to was to go back to her little home high above the ground, collapse on her bed and sink into a deep sleep.

"Did you enjoy dinner?" she asked companionably as they walked down the halls.

"It was pleasant enough, and thankfully Síloleth was with me so I had help making a few friends."

Gwedhiel laughed softly. "Oh please Rumil, you have never had trouble with that. I could put you in a den of thieves and you would win their loyalty to you in seconds. I don't think there is a being alive, human, elf, or possibly even dwarf you couldn't charm."

"Perhaps." Rumil agreed with a modest grin. "And what of you, how was your dinner with the king?"

The blue-eyed elleth merely groaned and rolled her eyes. "I'd forgotten how much I disliked him, and just how much he could get on my nerves with his indifferent, cold demeanor."

"I thought you were friends."

"We were, but I despised him for a long time first."

"Then how is it you came to be friends?" Rumil asked with a curious frown.

"That, little one, is a long tale that I do not wish to tell right now. Perhaps another time."

The ellon sighed but nodded, knowing it futile to try and drag anything more out of his friend. She was stubborn when it came to personal details, a fact he well knew. As it was, she had shared more about her previous feelings for the king than he had ever expected to hear.

The two elves managed to find their way to their respective rooms, Rumil leaving Gwedhiel at her door with goodnight wishes before leaving to go to his own bed. She entered her room with a sigh, prepared for bed and then promptly crumpled onto her bed, crawling under the silky white sheets.

Still, as she lay there staring up at the ceiling her thoughts continued to spin, giving her no peace. For a long time she lay awake, simply thinking, but her thoughts always ended up in one place: why had Thranduil forgotten her?

* * *

><p><strong>I just wanted to point out the lovely cover I now have. I did do it myself, see if you can figure out the different symbols and who they belong to. There are a few. Also, thank you for the wonderful reviews, they keep me confident and inspired. Please let me know more of what you think!<strong>

**Blessing, **

**Inquisitor**


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